


Second Hand Goods

by Dame_Syrup (mary_pseud)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alien anatomy, F/M, Kinkmeme, Lubricant, Regeneration, Stripping, bifurcate penis, bound on a spit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 14:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_pseud/pseuds/Dame_Syrup
Summary: For the kinkmeme prompt: Any Doctor 1-8/Any doctor companion (Harry, Grace, Martha...); contrary to appearances, the Doctor does have two of something else.Explanation as to why no one else ever noticed is awesome but not necessary.





	Second Hand Goods

It didn't take Sarah Jane long to realise that the new Doctor – rather, the Doctor after his regeneration – was shyer than his previous self.

She remembered him white-haired and grinning as he strode into the TARDIS control room wearing only a towel (which he would inevitably end up losing), or 'accidentally' letting himself be found asleep in the nude, or winking slyly at her as their captors stripped him bare.

This Doctor, though: he never slept nude. No invitations to skinny-dip, no friendly dropping by in the showers, no soft knocks at her bedroom door – sometimes she wondered if he'd forgotten about her, in the confusion of his regeneration. Forgotten about the times they'd shared, rough and playful or slow and sweet. Many times, in many places and times. She was afraid that he might have forgotten about her.

But he hadn't.

No, he hadn't.

She could see it in his eyes, in his smile: the way his fingers squeezed her hand as they ran, the way his eyes lingered on her mouth as she spoke, the way he seemed to wriggle against her when they were bound back-to-back by some alien or another.

She finally thought to mention it when the latest alien to catch them actually bound them front to front, on a spit, and then went off to gather sufficient firewood to cook them.

"Excuse me, Doctor, but could I ask you a personal question?" she ventured.

"What, now? Now, when we're about to become a Grindo's luncheon special?"

She sighed. "No we aren't."

"We aren't?" He craned his neck and stared down at the top of her head; their captor had bound them foot to foot, lying on their sides, which left Sarah Jane talking to his breastbone.

"Because the Grindo left the coals hot, right over there. So we're going to roll over, scorch the ropes until they're brittle, and then make our escape. But that shouldn't take more than four minutes, and the nearest firewood is at least fifteen minutes away (she craned her neck and looked at their surroundings, an endless expanse of pebbles and dead grass). "So that gives you plenty of time to answer my question."

"Ah, well-"

"Why aren't you naked around me anymore?"

The Doctor swallowed so hard that she could feel it. "Sarah Jane-"

"I mean, you're always so formal. Always so – dressed. But I can see you laugh, I see how happy you are, and I want to be happy with you; and you – push me away."

The Doctor sighed, his breath stirring her hair. "I think we should start rolling, if we want to burn these ropes off."

Sarah Jane considered digging in her heels – literally – but actually dying to make him answer a question wasn't a very practical idea.

"This isn't over with," she said, and rolled. And as they rolled over and over, towards the fire, she felt a familiar hardness against her body, and her heart leapt to know that perhaps she was getting through to him.

But once they were back in the TARDIS, he was all seriousness: adjusting controls, monitoring the Grindo ships in orbit. She took a deep breath, and then another, and then her shoulders slumped.

"Excuse me, would you hold this?" and almost automatically her hands took the Doctor's scarf and folded it, feeling the rough hand knitting. "And this," and his hat joined it.

She turned and found a place to put them against the wall, and when she turned back, the Doctor's jacket was on the floor at his feet. His cravat snaked down after it, and then his shirt.

She sucked in a breath between her teeth. He was so – big. Ginger hair curled across his barrel chest, and feathered along his arms. She wanted those arms around her; she knew that with sudden clarity.

But the Doctor wasn't looking at her. His eyes remained fixed on the TARDIS controls as he touched his belt buckle – and paused.

"Do you remember my tattoo?" he finally said, still not looking up, rubbing one hand up and down his arm. "It – regeneration sometimes draws on previous Time Lord DNA, previous life histories. We – regenerate, and find ourselves with new scars, new memories-"

"But you keep all the old ones, right?"

"Yes, but," he fumbled for words even as his fingers deftly undid his belt, "but you see, Sarah Jane, this time, with this body, something else changed."

He stopped, and finally bent over to take off his shoes and socks. There was the sound of a zipper unfastening, and then he stood and kicked his trousers and pants aside, and stood beside the console, naked to her.

He was different. So different. And when she looked at the part of him she had most enjoyed looking at, she saw he was different there as well.

She came closer, one step, two. She reached out, hesitantly, stroking her fingers down his lower belly, and then down the strange groove that ran down the length of his shaft. He stirred at her touch, and his penis – parted.

It split apart, into two sleek symmetrical halves that folded themselves back together like hands.

"As you can see, this time, I'm circumcised. And so you have to understand that-"

She was imagining him slipping inside her and then spreading out, sliding up in two distinct thrusts. And could he make the two halves work independently, she wondered? Could they bend, could they turn inside her, could they-

"-are you listening to me?"

"What? Oh yes, yes," she said, quickly raising her eyes to his.

"I said that I'll understand if you don't want to continue with – with the physical part of our relationship."

Sarah Jane suddenly looked very serious. She seriously stepped closer, until her breasts brushed the Doctor's bare chest, until her hands on his gently pulsing shafts was pressed between them, until they were as close as they could be – with her so clothed.

"Doctor. If you don't think that I'm going to take you to bed, right now, and find out exactly what you can do with this new body, you don't understand me at all."

He grinned, just a little, and then wide as lightning flashing across the sky. "Really? Now?"

"Now," she said, unbuttoning her blouse.

That ended up on the console room floor.

Her brassiere was left hanging on a doorknob.

The rest of her clothes were left in a trail to her room, where she pulled him down on the bed and ground her bare pelvis to him, urgently.

"Gently, gently!" His clever fingers pulling a tiny teardrop container of lubricant from the drawer where he had left it, not so long ago. "You'll need this, I think-"

They watched as the glistening liquid ran in a single bright stream, from the bottle to her centre, mingling with her own fluids. His fingers stirring her, parting her. And then the delicious weight of him across her, his breath hot in her ear, and the ecstatic thrust of his new flesh as it entered her – and rippled.

She rippled back, and then he shivered and she twisted, and he twined and she squeezed, and the pleasant duel went on until the pleasure was too great for two bodies to hold and flew out of them, burning, soaring, together.

 


End file.
